Merry Christmas, Harry Potter
by i-nv-u50
Summary: It all starts when Harry recieves a riddle one snowy deecember morning. Next thing he knows, his world is turning upside down. Either that, or he's gone insane, because there's no way he could be falling for MALFOY! Slash DM/HP


Title: Merry Christmas, Harry Potter

Author: I-nv-u50

Pairings: Draco/Harry

Warnings: Shounen ai, slash, yaoi, whatever. Oh, some bad language. _(blinks around innocently)_ what?

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.  _(Starts singing All I want For Christmas….)_

Story Rating: PG13

Author's Notes: Whee!! Well, this was a surprise O.o;; All this because of one cute little riddle I found.. Isnt that sweet? :D I'm glad Draco was in a mushy mood tonight. Anyway, for real this time, this is the last story I'm posting until December! Seriously! Don't expect any more for this month or November!! O.o;

Now that's clear… This isn't my Christmas fic. This is probably a prequel for my Christmas fic. (whoever heard of a oneshot getting a prequel?)  Ah well. So. I'll try and have my REAL Christmas fic out by dec 20, but someone should still remind me a few days before hand so I can think of something O.o;

I got the title from Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown. Why was I thinking about that when my mind was full of snogging Harry and Draco? They're still at it, btw… Not that I'm complaining .

Anyhoo, I suppose I should start looking for a beta reader. Any volunteers? O.o;

Annnddddd… that's about it. Oh yea! Happy early Christmas!! 

And my birthday's coming up? What do I want? Draco and Harry :D … and a few other random characters. But enough of that. On with the story, its fluffy, its sweet, and its probably a tad OOC.

Oh well. Please review!! ^^

I am just two and two 

_I am warm, I am cold,_

_I am lawful, unlawful_

_A duty, a fault_

_I am often sold dear,_

_Good for nothing when bought;_

_An extraordinary boon,_

_A matter of course,_

_And yielding with pleasure_

_When taken by force._

The riddle had arrived by owl on a snowy morning in early December, while the whole school had been eating breakfast. Dumbledore had just stood up to wish everyone a safe and happy trip back to their homes, if they were going, and to remind them that the train would be arriving in a few hours for them. Harry was staying again this year, along with Hermione and Ron. He knew that they were staying because of him, and he was grateful, especially since the two of them had some big news to tell their own families. The snow was drifting lightly down from the ceiling, but not onto the gathered student and teachers, and the fact that the clouds showing up on the magical ceiling were blatantly snow clouds only added to the surreal quality.

Surreal was something Harry could deal with. Surreal was one of the better words to describe how he felt, now that his last Hogwarts Christmas was coming up.

It had been, Harry conceded, a very interesting, fun, and entertaining seven years. Whenever they weren't exhausting, dangerous or devastating, of course. Voldemort's last attempt to kill him had ended up with the death of a few students other than Harry, and, possibly even worse, the death of the first friend Harry had made in the wizarding world had happened a few years before.

Hagrid had been killed while on his trip during the summer after Cedric's death. Harry still wasn't completely in on the basic facts, but it seemed fairly obvious that Hagrid had gone to make peace with the other giants in hopes of preventing them joining Voldemort like they had more than seventeen years ago. 

He had been murdered on the trip home, and although Harry missed his friend a lot, and his heart felt more saddened with every passing year that Hagrid wouldn't be alive, the full giants had found out about the whole ordeal. They had liked Hagrid, after a time, and were furious with Voldemort for causing the demise of the soft hearted half giant.

Harry glanced at the short note again. "A matter of course…" he repeated and blinked, thinking hard about the obvious question here.

Who had sent it, why had they sent it, and what was the answer to what was obviously a riddle?

"Wh's tha', Harr'?" Ron asked through a mouthful of quite an interesting mixture of porridge and toast.

Harry looked up again. "It's a-"

"Love letter!" Seamus crowed, snatching it out of Harry's hands before Harry could stop him.

Seamus read the letter silently, as the rest of the seventh year gryffindors around them leaned forward with bated breath. If it were the slightest bit scandalous, Seamus would be the first to talk and understand just _how_ serious it was.

Seamus raised his eyes to Harry, who was no less curious than anyone else to find out what Seamus thought about the puzzling letter. Seamus had a knack for this kind of thing.

"Somebody wants something from you, eh Harry?" The lilting Irish accent was undertoned by frank amusement, and Harry blinked.

"How did you get that?"

"You don't know what the answer is?"

"No." 

Seamus candidly passed the note to Hermione. "You're supposedly good at logic, do you know the answer? 'Cause I'd like to double check, just in case."

Hermione took the note with concealed curiosity and scanned it quickly. She shook her head after a minute. "I don't know what it is now, but give me a few hours and I'll probably have it."

Harry smiled at her. "Would you tell me what it is when you do?"

She laughed and shook her head, giving the note back to Harry despite Ron's outstretched hand. "Sorry Harry, but if Seamus is right, it's probably better for you to do it yourself."

She caught the innuendo a few seconds after the rest of the table did and, flushing slightly, picked up her remaining slice of toast and left.

Ron immediately leaned forward, still chuckling a little at Hermione. "What's it say?"

Harry slid him the note, too involved with making sure his jam didn't drip onto his lap to answer.

Ron read the note slowly, obviously trying to think up ideas as he went along before shrugging and giving it back to Harry, who was unconcernedly licking the stray jam off of his fingers. 

"Don't know, Harry. If you ask me, finding out who sent it is more important than finding out what they sent."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, and they got up and left the Grand Hall together.

A few hours later, the train had come and gone, along with multiple trunks, owls, cats and a few toads. The castle, which had been ringing with the excited babble of students leaving and students saying goodbye to those who were leaving, was now almost perfectly silent. The platform, which had been full to the brim with bustling people of all ages from eleven to eighteen, was now empty, except for a few stragglers who were just setting off on their way back to the castle.

Draco Malfoy was one such student. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered saying goodbye to his, no, not friends, _housemates_, but today he subjected himself to a few more hours of Crabbe and Goyle's stupid comments, and Pansy's mindless chatter and simpering giggle. What didn't kill you only made you stronger. And Draco, walking briskly up the wide road back to Hogwarts, believed in being strong. There was nothing he hated more than weakness. 

Draco pulled his high quality, heavily warm sating cloak around him tighter as the snowfall got a little heavier, then felt absurd for the safeness he felt from the heaviness. It was a good illusion, he supposed, that weight determined the warmth sometimes.

He paused for a second at the big gates, just stood there and stared around. The snow was drifting faster now, floating thickly now, a dry, powderish snow. It would have been excellent ammo for a snowball fight.

Unfortunately, Malfoys did not have snowfights.

Neither did Malfoys go tobogganing, which was what some people were doing on the small enslopement a little way inside the gates.

Malfoy snorted at their stupidity, and wished he could be at home, where there were lots of hills, but for skiing and snowboarding, not tobogganing.

The first skier, incidentally, was a wizard, a young man before even Merlin's time, who's name had been lost over the years. So too, had the story of how he discovered skiing, but there were repeated references of a yeti and her cubs. 

Snowboarding, a slightly more recent discovery, had been discovered by a mudblood of no definite importance, but since she had been at least half wizard rather than full muggle, and Draco had thought it might be entertaining for a while, Lucius had agreed to let Draco try the sport.

The people tobogganing (a purely muggle invented sport, and thus, quite stupid) down the tiny hill were obviously a few unimportant first years. Their yellow (it figured) scarves were whipping about in the small wind that was created, as shouts of laughter, and just plain normal shouts floated through the heavy air, coming distantly to Draco's air. 

Draco snorted again, just because, and carried on his way, shaking his head in rueful amusement as the snowflakes made his perfectly styled white-blonde hair damp, and possibly ruined the over all look he had created.

Then a scream of laughter from behind him made him stop, and the squeal that quickly followed had him reluctantly turning around to see what was on, because he vaguely recognized the squeal as being the same one he had heard from the weasel girl before he had accidentally, and completely unknowingly walked in on her and another mudblood.

He turned around too soon, and a snowball hit him square on the forehead, held there by the force of the throw for a second or two before sliding off.

The space he was looking at was suddenly empty, the people obviously taking advantage of the curtain of snowfall.

Draco resisted the urge to whip out his wand and hex everything around him until he found a single human to curse. Lucius hadn't been happy with Draco's last report, and even if neither he nor Draco had little or no respect for the headmaster, Lucius would not be pleased to find another bad report about his son. He called it 'Disgracing the family'. Draco called it 'Having some fun.' But Draco was never called on to give his opinion, and he had learnt from a young age never to voice what wasn't asked for.

He growled low in his throat at the pitiful escape the cowards had made, and stalked towards the castle, hampered only a little by the snow that was approaching knee deep.

Ron collapsed in fits of laughter, the minute they were all inside the castle again and it was safe to do so again. "Did you see him?" he howled, rolling around on the floor like he had wanted to since they had first hit The Ferret Boy in the face, and wasn't able to, because to roll around in the snow was something quite uncomfortable altogether.

Hermione shook her head at his behaviour. "Ron, stop it already. It wasn't that funny. You didn't laugh this hard when you got Harry in the face."

"Yea," chuckled Ron, climbing unsteadily to his feet. "But Harry was expecting it."

"I was not!" Harry retorted, shaking the snow out of his hair and off of his boots.

Ron snorted in obvious disbelief. "You were in a snowball fight, of course you were."

Harry hummed thoughtfully and inscrutably.

Ron turned back to Hermione. "Malfoy wasn't expecting it! Harry, I really congratulate you again!"

Harry nodded silently, his mind floating back upstairs to his bedside table, to where a note was just waiting to be deciphered. He hated riddles. He wasn't stupid, or lazy, it was just that he preferred to have all the things worked out already. And he had never been good at riddles. It must have been inherited, because Professor Lupin – no, Remus – had told him that his father had hated riddles as well. James Potter had adored creating them and watching others puzzle over them, and he was quite good at both those aspects, but he was too impatient to try and figure out one riddle, when he could be planning and perfecting the plan for another prank.

"Thinking about that riddle again?" Hermione spoke quietly, trying to keep the attention of Ron on his sister for a little longer.

Harry nodded and heaved a small sigh. "I just don't know where to start."

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I would say the library." She held up a hand to stop Harry's groan before it started. "No, listen to me. If it's a famous riddle, its in one of the books in there."

Harry eyed her in what he hoped was not a too patronizing manner. Hermione didn't like being patronized. "How do you know its famous, Hermione?"

She gave him a quick grin. "Well, Seamus worked it out in a few seconds, didn't he? Which means he's either used it before, or had it used on him."

Harry nodded slowly. That made sense, at least. "All right. But who sent it?"

Hermione sighed, and they watched Ron give a huge noogie to his younger, complaining sister.

"That, I think, you'll have to find out for yourself."

Draco, unable to prove anything against the terrible trio, was forced to glare at them throughout the whole of supper. As this was nothing out of the norm, Harry and his cronies paid no attention to it. Admittedly, neither did Draco, but he thought it rather rude of them to so deliberately disregard the glare he was giving them, quite oblivious to the honour he was bestowing on them. Many would have killed to have Draco look at them at all, but to receive a patented Malfoy Glare™ was one of the top honours of all, and for them to ignore it was quite unforgivable.

Unfortunately, horror of horrors, Draco found himself quite incapable of being unforgiving when he was confronted with the emerald green eyes that suddenly lifted from a half full plate of food and looked straight into his.

And Draco was forcibly reminded of the little note he had _not_ written, the same little note that had _not_ been sent off at all, especially _not_ to gryffindor's very own Golden Boy.

Violently opposed to looking away first, he caught and held the gaze until the usual evening chatter, quite a bit quieter than usual due to the lack of students, dissipitated into nothing at all, and he was left alone in a very small enclosed space with those enchanting green eyes that were determinedly pulling him in.

Unable to bear it any longer, the whole situation screaming weakness at him, Draco wrenched his eyes away, almost gasping for breath. He denied himself the pleasure of sneaking a quick glance back at Harry and concentrated on the other sole slytherin, a lowly fifth year student, but not, perhaps, so lowly as the people sitting across the hall from him.

Harry lowered his eyes again from Draco's, unsure about what had just happened. It had felt so violent, so shocking and electrifying, that he was surprised Ron wasn't beating him over the head with the mace from the armour on the second floor. 

Had that been… could it possibly be that he was… _attracted_ to _Malfoy_?

No. Of course not. It was impossible, absurd, and completely unrealistic.

He glanced at Draco from under his fringe. Draco was decidedly and doggedly avoiding his stare.

No. No way. Absolutely no … _fucking_ way!

Harry groaned softly, and resisted the urge to bang his head against the table.

Next to him, Ron swallowed and leant over a little. "What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry looked up. "You know that mace on the second floor?"

Ron paused to think a second. "Yea…"

"Could you go get it please?"

"Why?"

"Because I need you to beat my head in."

"Oh. Well, all right then."

"Ron!" Hermione's voice broke into their conversation. "That's very important school property! I don't think Professor McGonagall would approve!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Hermione. I knew I could count on you."

Hermione blinked at him. "Oh Harry, of course you can. But what's your reason for trying to get Ron to smash your skull?"

Harry gulped. He couldn't tell them. Not at all, not ever, not so close to Christmas, and certainly not when he himself still couldn't believe it. 

"Because, although I have great faith in your strength Hermione, I doubt you'd be able to come up with the kind of force I'm requiring."

Hermione gave him a look. "Don't avoid the real question, Harry."

Harry cringed slightly, and raised his eyes slightly to face her, but she moved to reach for the bowl of rice, and he was left staring straight at Draco again.

He looked away immediately, but  Ron caught the moment, and made a sympathetic noise. "Don't worry Harry. We'll go to the common room and be rid of the git soon."

Harry nodded helplessly, and looked down at his food again. He was thinking of the note again, and then, quite suddenly, he didn't feel as hungry any more.

A few days after mid December, Harry had gotten quite adept at avoiding Malfoy and thus, the feelings and other inconsequential things tended to be ignored quite easily.

Of course, there were moments of weakness, where he find himself pondering the exact colour of Draco's silver gray eyes, the shade of that silky looking white blonde hair that could almost be classified as white gold simply because it was, and other nonsensical things like that. The worst thing about these moments was that they occurred frequently. 

For example, Ron had been beating (really beating) him brutally at wizard's chess, which, in all his years of playing it now, Harry hadn't yet managed to win over Ron, and Harry was watching Ron's pawn calmly unspread its swords and placidly sliced his queen in half. Harry had stared at the desecrated remains of his queen for a few minutes, thinking blankly of Draco for no apparent reason before he realized exactly what and _whom_ he was thinking about and hurriedly switched modes back to the game. Ron had been watching him, a half sympathetic, half cocky grin on his face.

"Sorry Harry. But I had to do it. It was the only way." 

Harry had nodded dumbly, unnaturally grateful for Ron's mistake. "It's all right, Ron." Harry grinned suddenly. It was only half forced. "I'll beat you next time. But I'm tired. I should get to bed."

Ron took a pointed look at the clock that was whistling to itself happily above the fireplace. "Harry, it's 5 in the afternoon."

Harry faked a yawn. "I know. But I went to bed so late last night, I think I should go to bed extra early tonight."

Harry had almost made it to the stairway when Ron called out to him again. "Harry, you went to bed straight after supper yesterday. Is anything wrong?"

"Goodnight Ron!"

Harry fled, half wishing, and half not, that he could tell his best friend the truth about what was bothering him. It wasn't like he wanted to have half formed fantasies about Draco, or think about him day and night, or even wonder if it really was him who had sent that note. Harry himself couldn't be blamed for what went on inside of himself without him knowing a thing until it was too late, but he didn't think Ron would see it that way. In fact, he wasn't sure he saw that way himself, and he was the one with all the feeling! It was all very confusing. Harry buried his head under his pillow when he reached the dorm, and gave another moan, one that was satisfactorily muffled by the material and feathers.

He couldn't stand it. He couldn't believe he was falling in love with one of his worst enemies. A worst enemy that was son of someone who worked for his greatest worst enemy. That was even worse.

Ron would never forgive him. Ron wouldn't understand. Ron would remember years and years of family feud and would be quite outraged that Harry was in love with a Malfoy.

And Hermione… She wouldn't be too pleased either. She would think that Harry was wasting himself on someone who didn't really care, who couldn't really care, for anyone at all, not just Harry.

Hermione was head girl to Draco's head boy, so she ought to know.

And Harry could never betray his friends, his family like that, not by falling in love with someone that they all hated. Then, in a fit that was quite unlike him, he just muttered "Ah, fuck it," and uncovered his head to set his glasses on straight again.

Then he reached for the note, the paper of which was creased and crinkled from being handled so many times before when Harry was going through an identity crisis, as he had so often since that first time.

_I am just two and two_

_I am warm, I am cold,_

_I am lawful, unlawful_

_A duty, a fault_

_I am often sold dear,_

_Good for nothing when bought;_

_An extraordinary boon,_

_A matter of course,_

_And yielding with pleasure_

_When taken by force._

He read over the familiar words one more time, then stood up suddenly, his mind decided.

Draco was almost quite surprised when the secret doorway that only slytherins knew about opened and no one came through, but he decided not to be. Malfoys were never surprised. Although his feelings for a certain golden boy of the school had certainly knocked him out of reality for a while, then insisted he stay out.

When did a Malfoy, one of the oldest wizarding families in Europe, in the _world_, fall for what was acknowledged to be the worst enemies of the greatest dark lord of all time that they had so inconveniently allied with?

He was pondering this all in his head, idly watching the green flames in the fireplace crackle and flare in the same green of Potter's eyes, when the couch cushions sank down unintrusively beside him. Draco spared a cautious but unconcerned glance for the blaringly empty place beside him. 

"Hello." Draco said complacently.

The thing said nothing, but he could hear it breathing.

"You know," Draco continued, returning his gaze to the fire, "If I were completely alert and sober right now, I'd probably demand you show yourself, and hex you if you don't."

The breathing stopped for a second.

"But I won't if you don't."

He just knew that the thing was nodding.

"But as it so happens, I think I'm a little bit… Well, drunk is certainly not the word. I'd say something like pleasantly buzzed." Draco paused, giving the fire a confused look that could have been aimed at anyone. "Otherwise I wouldn't be saying this, you understand."

The quiet breathing paused, almost as if the thing was about to speak, but then changed its mind.

"But surely you understand what it's like to feel overwhelmed. Like you just don't understand it at all, and you're never going to be able to." Draco paused just long enough for the thing to insert an invisible nod. "I think I must be slightly further gone than I thought. Why am I telling you this? I don't usually do this, you know. I don't even know who you are."

The air by Draco's cheek suddenly felt warmer, and he leant into it instinctively, seeking the touch of any living thing besides himself tonight, especially when he was so confused, so vulnerable, so weak.

It was a hand, Draco realized dazedly as the thing pulled the hand away hurriedly. A warm, human hand, covered by something silky and not quite there.

"Who are you?" Draco stared searchingly into the thin air where he thought the thing was, and was completely surprised when a hand found and held his cheek again, holding it still as soft lips moved across his, making the thinnest barrier between them seem impossibly thick and impassable.

Before Draco could even think to deepen the kiss, or pull off the invisibility cloak, because that's what it was, the lips and the hand was gone, and the secret door had opened and closed again.

And Draco, staring desolately into the crackling green fires again, was reminded that this was ever to be his life. Alone.

Harry entered the library breathlessly, too excited and thrilled to even think about what he was doing. Hermione was the main researcher of the group, but Harry wasn't completely inadequate, and he soon found the book he was looking for.

How Riddles are Solved and How You Can Do the Same 

The riddle on the first page  was labeled App1,Q1,R1.

I never was, am always to be,  
No one ever saw me, nor ever will  
And yet I am the confidence of all  
To live and breathe on this terrestrial ball

When Harry turned to the back of the book, under Answers, App1,Q1,R1, he found the answer.

Tomorrow 

Harry sighed, and lifted the big book up again. It looked like he'd be in for a long read, as they weren't separated by categories or anything else that might have been helpful. 

'Oh no,' Harry thought bitterly. 'They couldn't take pity on the boy-who-lived and just categorize it, could they?' Something in him promptly told him not to be so stupid, that the whole world didn't revolve around him and he willingly agreed that the little voice was right. Idly, he wondered if hearing voices in his head was a good thing, but he didn't care at the moment. He had a riddle to find.

Finally, under App84,Q276,R1103, he found the right riddle. He stared at it for a few minutes, almost unable to believe that he had found it. He had scanned through the book, taking in the first few lines of each riddle to see if they compared to the one he knew so well now, and it had still taken him until dawn.

He flipped the pages quickly to the back of the book to look in the answers section, scanning quickly down the page to the answer.

He tapped it lightly with his finger, a small smile ghosting across his face before he grinned outright and looked up to stare through the window that was showing the pearly gray of a misty morning. It was promising to be a beautiful day.

"Well Draco…" Harry murmured softly, standing up and stretching his stiff legs and shoulders. "It's all up to me now, isn't it."

Draco was suffering. Granted, he was usually suffering, it was something a Malfoy accepted as a matter of course, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it. He was doing a lot of things that Malfoy's weren't supposed to be doing, Draco mused as he walked down to the Grand Hall on Christmas morning. 

He couldn't remember much about last night, but he remembered the strange, almost surreal feeling of being kissed when there was no one there, and he had wondered about that, late into the night, despising himself for doing so, and yet having no way to stop it. It was all very hard, he decided, and he pushed open the doors to the Grand Hall.

It was a fairy winter wonderland. Snow, all too real, but not cold was piled artistically to create the impression of a picnic ground during the winter months. Snowmen were dotted all over the place, with four of the five tables gone, with just the one long table down the middle. There was a small icy pond where some hufflepuff and ravenclaw were already playing around, pretending to be ice skaters when they resembled a pair of penguins more, and from where he stood, Draco could see at least one snow angel.

Snowballs had been enchanted and were, even now, following random people around the hall, bowling accurately every time onto the back of the victim's head before remodeling itself and following someone else. Even as he watched the weasel girl get beaned by one, something hit him hard on the head, and he ignored it.

It hit him again, and he ignored it. But when the third time came around, he whirled around and suddenly found himself faced with a laughing Harry.

"Good morning Draco! Merry Christmas!" Harry's bright emerald green eyes sparkled laughingly at him, and Draco felt himself almost smile back, except the weasel had to step up behind Harry.

Draco, thankful for the thing to sneer at when he otherwise wouldn't have been able for the life of him, sneered.

Harry blinked at him, suddenly confused, then grinned again when Ron spoke from behind him. "C'mon, Harry, let's go play with Gin."

"You go on ahead of me, Ron. I just want a quick word with Draco."

Harry could feel Ron's scowl, and his will wavered slightly. Draco wasn't helping by smirking at Ron like that.

"Fine." Ron sounded put out, and Harry didn't blame him. He still hadn't told anyone.

"Harry? Where are you going?" came Hermione's concerned voice as Harry spun around and walked off. 

Harry ignored her. His heart was pounding with the anticipation of what he was about to do, and at the amount of nerve he was so obviously displaying, and at how much it would hurt if Draco didn't kiss back.

And if Draco did kiss back then… Well then, they could talk some more. Maybe work something out. But Harry wouldn't admit he was falling in love with the slytherin unless something desperately called for it. 

Or unless Draco told him he loved him.

But then if Draco told him, and he said it back straight away, would it be coming from him, or from an effort to make him feel better?

Harry didn't really understand what he was arguing with himself for, but he realized it would have some significance. Especially if it actually really happened.

Harry stopped outside a deserted and locked room. He glanced at Draco, then took out his wand. He whispered both passwords, especially as he wasn't really supposed to know either, and neither was Draco. Only Sirius and Remus were supposed to, but they had told Harry the passwords, reasoning that the map would tell him sooner or later anyway. It had been one of their secret hideaways. No one noticed the room unless they knew it was there. Even Draco was looking faintly surprised when Harry opened the door.

Harry stepped in, and felt an old excitement surge up inside of him, like it always did when he visited this place, a place his father had spent time in as well, a lot of time apparently.

Draco looked around the room carefully, taking in the old but comfortable looking armchairs, the empty fireplace with the furry carpet spread out in front of it. There were a few burnt tapestries and wall hangings, and some paintings on the wall waved cheerfully at Harry, whispering excitedly to each other.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen." Harry started politely, sweeping a low bow like Sirius and Remus had told him to. "But we would like some privacy. Would you mind very much if you continued your Christmas Dinner in 10 minutes?"

One of the ladies tittered, and fanned herself. "Why no, of course not."

Another lady giggled. "Young mister Black and mister Lupin used to require the same thing. Although," she continued, either not noticing or pretending not to notice Harry's sudden flush, "they always requested more than 10 minutes."

The paintings laughed again, and quickly left, gossiping and whispering to each other noisily.

Harry took a deep breath. This was it. It was in or out, and once he was in, there was no out. "Draco, I know you sent that riddle."

Draco smirked, feeling a little panic rising up, only to be forced back down again. "Do you? Have you worked it out yet?"

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Draco's, and Draco's eyes widened a bit.

'Oh God, oh God oh God, oh bloody hell…'

Harry stepped closer, and Draco tried to keep his smirk on. 

"Draco… it isn't going to be easy…"

"You think I don't know that?" Draco tried to keep the choke down, and Harry stepped closer, only to stop directly in front of Draco, standing so close that Draco could feel his heat.

"We're going to be in such trouble if we're ever found out…" Harry leaned a little closer.

"You mean we're going to be fucked…" Draco couldn't get his eyes off of Harry's, the emerald green was so alluring, so dark in the shadows that played over Harry's face.

"Yes…" Harry breathed, his lips centimeters away from Draco's. "I won't tell if you don't…"

The words sounded vaguely familiar and Draco was hit with a blinding epiphany the second Harry's lips touched his.

Draco flicked out his tongue almost immediately, asking to carry the kiss deeper, and Harry obeyed willingly, angling his head slightly.

Draco seemed to be wanting to devour Harry, and, despite his earlier fears and still all too real realizations, Harry wanted to be devoured. He wanted to belong to someone, have someone belong to him. He pressed himself closer, twining his arms around Draco's waist.

This time, Draco knew, there were no barriers. Just the sweet simple pleasure of lips against lips, tongue against tongue, body against body, and, dare he say it, heart against heart.

'Merry Christmas, Harry Potter…' 

Extra AN: Btw… the answer to the riddle? A kiss :D


End file.
